


Vessel

by Neonbat



Series: SPN kink Bingo 2018 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alien Aphrodisiac, Alien sex goo, Alien!Cas, All holes filled with tentacles, Creature Castiel, Destiel IN SPAACCEE, Dubcon leaning towards Noncon, Egg Laying, M/M, Pilot!Dean, So many tentacles, Space horror elements, Tentacles, space, tentacle sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 16:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: Dean has accepted a job hauling one of the deep-space creatures known as 'Angels'. They're dangerous, strong, and unpredictable, but the Credits are the right incentive for temptation. A Winchester doesn't turn down a lucrative job. The only problem is, Winchesters never had much sense.





	Vessel

**Author's Note:**

> My third entry for the spn kink bingo! This is my tentacle square :D

The quiet rhythmic beeps were music in and of itself out here. A whir of a pump kicking to life, or hydraulic shutter-clunks punctuating the ever-present droning of the primary system’s line. 

“Winchester report number fifty-three of the vessel Impala, four days from dropping cargo, fifteen days since pickup. Cargo is still secure in the hold, no signs of tampering or cause for concern. Ahead of schedule by approximately,” Dean turned his head to the holographic display to his right. “Two-hundred and thirty million kilometers. End recording.” Less than a half an hour ahead of schedule, but Dean would take it, especially with what he was hauling.

 

Dean swiveled in the pilot’s chair, casting a quick glance through the viewscreen to see the dim blue-green glow of Kef-nine, shrouded in a sparkling mist from the planet’s volatile ionosphere. Sam was probably going ape-shit below deck. The Nerd.

 

Smirking, Dean raised a hand to the com nestled in the neck of his navy jumpsuit.”Squirrel to Moose, you seeing this or you already touching yourself to all the spark rays?”

 

His thumb lifted from the line, and instantly it crackled back to life.”Moose to Squirrel, you’re fucking gross.” Dean could hear the eye roll from here,”And yeah I’m looking. Isn’t it amazing? Just look at those currents. Atmosphere is so charged I can almost map them by eye!”

 

“Don’t fry your brain. Rounds done?”

 

“Yep, everything is ship-shape.” Sam paused for Dean’s inevitable groan at the poor pun. “You headed to check on the you-know-what?”

 

Dean blanched. You-know-what indeed. He hated having that thing on board the Impala. His baby didn’t deserve to play taxi to some deep space monster headed for a lab. They were better than that. The Winchester Brothers were the best name in the business, taking high-risk transports, retrieval jobs, hell even the occasional recovery if the credits were steep enough. If the job required a fast ship, they’d do it. He’d built this baby with loving hands inside and out, and no one knew tech like his baby brother. The pair of them had made a ship unrivaled. 

 

All of that lead to them getting contacted by a shady asshole named Crowley who wanted them to pick up a sensitive cargo from a no-name station in the pits of the fourth quadrant. Dean hadn’t even known ships went that far out. It had taken five consecutive Bursts and nearly frying out their propulsion systems in the process to even get them in spitting distance. If Crowley hadn’t dumped a pile of credits the size of Jupiter in their metaphorical laps Dean would have told the asshole to screw off. No part of this job had been fun which defeated the whole damn point!

 

Why bother dragging themselves up from the Colonies if they were going to do creepy milk runs for shady, short assholes?

 

Sighing, he unclipped himself from the pilot’s chair and pushed off. They’d switched off the artificial gravity days ago to help keep the strain off the poor girl’s systems after pushing her threw three more Bursts after cargo-pick up. It was a little disorienting being without it for too long, but a few more days wouldn’t kill them.

 

He swept along through the Impala’s corridors, passing Sam pressing his face against the viewing panels that made up the connecting corridor between the cargo-bay and the habitation deck. The ship wasn’t massive, but it could support four or five people comfortably, not that it ever had. Three had been its max until their father died four Sol rotations past. 

 

He stopped in front of the cargo bay, scowling ahead of him before slapping his hand against the reader. The brief flare of warmth bristled his palm and the doors disengaged with a faint squeak of the hydraulics. Something else to add to the maintenance list. He never got very far behind, but there was always something to be done when it was only him and his brother manning the ship. 

 

The security protocol slid the doors shut behind him, and he drifted in closer, casting paranoid eyes to and fro. Everything was latched down and secure, but Dean couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that came with having something so dangerous on his ship.

 

He drifted until could snag the line holding down a shipment of Phenolin pears, jerking him to a stop a few paces away from the solid mass of a black containment unit resting at the back of the bay. It still looked the same undisturbed block it had before, but Dean knew he needed to get closer to complete his check.

 

Resigning himself, he let go and ghosted closer with a faint push of his heel against the crates. The off-green haze of the dampening gas filling the coffin-like box obscured the thick glass top, but Dean could make out bits and pieces. A soft mouth, a shock of deep brown that looked like oil instead of hair on top of the creature’s head, a frighteningly strong body, and worse, the mass of pitch that made up the being’s lower body. 

 

Dean had encountered many Xenos in his time outside of the Colonies, but there was something intrinsically wrong about this one. 

 

He’d first heard whispers of Angels when he was a boy, sitting wide-eyed in front of old Rufus’ dilapidated shack at the edge of the third to last habitation ring. He told the Colony kids stories of his time among the stars before he got too old to go galavanting around with Bobby. Both men settled into Colony life about as comfortably as a dog lived underwater, but they tried. And more importantly, they taught. 

 

There was a fancier, more scientistic name given to Angels, but Dean never knew how to pronounce it. The nickname had stuck with the population that knew about them, a macabre joke more than anything else. 

 

They were terrible creatures able to exist outside in the cold vacuum of space. How much of the rumors were true, Dean didn’t know, but he’d heard they could blink through space like a ship’s Burst, and were stronger than any known species. They drifted through space, sometimes alone, in pairs, or worse, in pods, coming across the unsuspecting. Most information for the ‘whys’ seemed implausible to Dean, but he was no xenobiologist either.  Some said they attacked for pleasure, others for food, others for reproduction, but Dean figured they were just another race that liked to steamroll others. There were plenty like them out there...even if the others had clear limitations that Angels didn’t. 

 

He ‘stood’ staring down at the box, jaw set. It felt like having a bomb ticking away in his ship. It made him itch. Nervous.

 

“Moose to Squirrel, everything good?”

 

Dean jumped when the comp crackled to life. “Fuck- er, Squirrel to Moose. Yeah, everything’s fine. Squid’s still in the box.”

 

A small snort punctuated Sam’s reply, “It's not a squid, Dean. Jeez. It’s a fascinating species.”

 

“How would you know?” Dean rolled his eyes, turning to let his back drift against the cargo hold wall to anchor himself a little. 

 

“I’ve read all there is to read! Not that there is a lot, but it’s obviously a sentient species. Just look at it!”

 

“Oh I’m looking at it, and it looks like calamari to me-” The ship groaned, lurching so violently Dean’s position against the wall throttled him.”-The fuck was that!” Static erupted over the line. Dean cursed. Sam was always accidentally squashing the wires in the collar of his shirt no matter how many times Dean told him to watch those mammoth hands of his.

 

He pushed off the wall and towards the door and chaos reigned. The sound of a hard impact rocking the Impala barely registered before the crate of pears nearby snapped from its tether and went flying. The topmost box careened into him, sending him sprawling back into a few stacked drums of hydraulic fluid kept on standby. Pain erupted up his back as the edge of one of the drums dug at his lower back momentarily clouding his vision in stars. 

 

“S-Sam!” He yelled, abandoning his attempt to com. He was close enough to the cargo door now where hopefully Sam could hear him. The cargo door wasn’t completely soundproof, but it didn’t make it easier either. 

 

The lights flickered, and seconds later darkness descended only to be broken up by the auxiliary lights kicking on. Everything was cast in a dull blue glow, and the blaring of outside systems shrieked from behind the door. Whatever had hit them did a number on the Impala for them to be on backup power.

 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was faint, but Dean could hear it. A moment later a hard thump sounded on the door, “Dean are you alright?” Sam’s voice was right outside, muffled, but there.

 

“Yeah, In one piece. The fuck happened?” Dean slammed his hand on the Reader, but only a pathetic spark flared from the top of the panel. “Reader’s fried over here!”

 

There was a pause, “Shit, here too! I’ll have to reboot the system and see what’s going on! I think we got hit with a snap-flare from Kef-nine. Hang tight!”

 

Dean sighed, pressing his head against the door with a groan. Of fucking course. He’d thought they were far enough away, but like usual, the universe had it out for them.

 

A faint fog caught his periphery. His brows pulled, and he turned, a dull dread pooling in his stomach when he realized the entire cargo room was filled with a thin vapor. The smell from leaking barrel hydraulic fluid covered up the scent, but if he strained, he could sniff out the faintly sour tang of the containment gas. It was dispersed enough now that the effects were negligible, only leaving the faintest of tingling against his skin, but its presence meant something far worse.

 

Cursing, he pivoted towards the black box, only to find the top shattered. There were many items jarred loose from the impact that could have collided into the containment unit, and he’d been too out of it to realize.

 

His pulse quickened. “Sam!” His shout tinged with the edges of panic as he turned to pound a fist against the door, knowing that Sam had already retreated to the front of the ship. Desperation drove him, fingers dragging at the hairline seam of the airtight doors.

 

“Sa-m?” A deep, croaky voice sent chills up his spine. 

 

Dean’s fist stalled, and he turned, spotting the looming figure of something in the foggy light perched on one of the drifting pear boxes.

 

The Angel looked massive outside of the containment unit. All its tentacles draped over the crate, gleaming like polished obsidian. Its head cocked, solid, pupilless blue eyes staring at him blankly. Its lips peeled back, revealing teeth as sharp as holovids of Terran sharks, brackish dark saliva pooling at the edge of its mouth. 

 

“Fuck!” Dean hissed, pressing his back flat against the door. 

 

The Angel’s head tilted deeper, “Fuck?” It parroted poorly, the syllables too sharp, too discorded. A low trill built in the creature’s throat, rising until it ended with a sharp clack of its pearlescent teeth. 

 

Short, black claws scraped the crate clutched between a break of two of its massive tentacles, and that was all the warning Dean got before the creature launched itself forward. He didn’t get time to scream, not before the Angel was on him, and the weight of its body was pinning him against the cargo door. 

 

The tentacles had no issue gripping the smooth door, and when one rose to caress up Dean’s neck, he knew why. There was a viscous coating around the tentacles, but as it slithered across his flesh, it left little to no residue. The ‘slime’ tugged at his skin as the tentacle traced around his Adam’s apple as if his flesh was made metal to a magnetic. 

 

His eyes met the creature’s, and Dean trembled. Lazy curls of black moved under the creature’s otherwise ‘normal’ skin, fluid in motion, like rivulets of rain on a window pane. They fractured and danced with every movement, as graceful as the pulls of the black tentacles that held Dean so effortlessly to the door.

 

The being stared as the creeping tentacle slithered farther up until the tapered tip snaked up to slide against Dean’s chin. For a terrible moment, Dean thought the creature meant to jab the noticeably smaller tentacle down his throat, but the moment it tickled his upper lip, realization solidified with a horrified gasp. 

 

The slender tentacle jammed up his nose, probing deep until Dean’s face screwed up with a shrill scream. Pain tore through his mind, searing hot agony that robbed his ability to breath, writhe, or cuss. His body went limp in the creature’s hold. It felt like the being was trying to curl the appendage around his brain.

 

“De-an.” Dean’s eyes blinked blearily open, struggling to focus as the creature chirped another stunted, awkward word. His name. The thing new his name. Had it overheard Sam say it before through the door? Could it hear when it was contained in the box?

 

The tentacle withdrew with a sharp jerk, and Dean reeled, sobbing a choked breath of relief. 

 

“Dean.” It repeated, stronger, less stilted. Its hands rose, cupping around Dean’s exposed throat, dragging the claws of its thumbs against Dean’s vocal chords. “Sp..eak. N-ame.” It demanded, the weight of its eyes anvils against Dean’s skin.

 

Dean struggled to understand what it wanted, squinting through the red haze of lingering ache. Speak. Name? 

 

Swallowing, he tried to find his voice when the creature’s fingers tightened minutely. “Dean. M...My name is Dean.”  He hoped to god that’s what it was asking.

 

Its teeth clacked, a fresh trill pulsing from its throat. “Dean.” It said once more in the same cadence Dean had just spoken. 

 

The hands parted from Dean’s throat, skirting up his cheeks, temples, and tangling in the short spikes of his light brown hair. “Human.” It rumbled, voice gravel-thick. “Vessel.” It leaned close, scenting Dean’s skin. A low rumble, so base Dean’s ears barely recognized it as sound vibrated in the Angel’s core. Instinctively, Dean knew it was pleased. 

 

The small tentacle returned, snaking up past Dean’s left ear to nestle against Dean’s temple. 

 

“Vessel. See.” 

 

A sharp stabbing pain bit into Dean’s temple as a hair-fine quill burst from the tip of the tentacle and plunged deep, sliding into his sphenoid bone as if it was nothing more than paper-mache. 

 

Dean’s mind exploded. Images of stars, galaxies unseen, planets unfound, all filled his head. A kaleidoscope of All tore through his mind, ripping it asunder. Clawed fingertips stroke through his hair as his brain was melted, basal coos reverberating against his skin through the spread of tentacles. 

 

In the middle of his unmaking, a word floated through the void. ‘Castiel.’ 

 

The quill withdrew, and Dean gagged, threatening to purge the contents of today’s lunch all over himself and the creature-- No, Castiel. Its name was Castiel.

 

The petting stilled, and Castiel leaned closer, the weight of its muscular body pressing to still Dean's frantic gasps.

 

“Dean.” Dean blinked through tears, staring at the Angel helplessly. He knew what it wanted now. “Vessel.” It repeated, one of its thick tentacles slipping to squirm its way past the hem of his right ankle, and up his calf. “Mine.”

 

Dean shuddered, head shaking weakly in Castiel’s grasp. “I can’t. I--” His protests were cut short by a harsh kiss, one that tasted of bitter-sweet saliva. The inky slide of Castiel’s tongue past his lips sent electricity down his spine, and all hopes of retaliation died with the press of their mouths. 

 

Warmth spread through Dean’s body, weighing him down until the faint struggle of his body was nothing more than abortive twitches. Mercury coursed through his veins, filling him up and pooling low. His body felt hyper-aware, every brush of a tentacle too much and not enough. His body sang in response to Castiel’s lips. Cognitively, he knew he should fight, flee, attack, anything to stall Castiel’s tentacles from pulling at his clothes and worming their way inside the synthetic weave. But the response of his body was worlds away from the chittering voice screaming at the back of his head.

 

He groaned, eyes fluttering as he worked his jaw lazily against the Angel’s mouth. Castiel’s tongue delved deep, snaking down the back of his throat until the entirety of Dean’s mouth was coated in the murky fluid secreted from the fluid sacks housed underneath Castiel’s tongue. 

 

A brush against his groin jerked his body in Castiel’s hold, only now aware of how hard he was. His cock strained against his jumpsuit, digging against the fabric, begging for release. 

 

Castiel’s tentacles momentarily strained, and Dean’s suit gave way in a series of rips, stripping off the offending material with moody flicks. 

 

“Vessel. Mine.” Castiel purred, pulling his mouth away to nose and nibble on Dean’s shoulder. Its tentacles pulled at Dean’s underwear, stripping them off roughly down his prone legs. 

 

Castiel’s touch was all over him, encompassing him in the faintly static pull of its limbs everywhere possible. It only took a curious slide of a tentacle coiling loosely around Dean’s dick before he was coming, soaking the pitch appendage in a splash of white. He trembled with it, whimpering desperately as he wiggled his hips futilely in Castiel’s hold, begging for more. Even after emptying himself, Dean was still rock hard to the point of pain.

 

“Wh-what did you do?” He gasped, craning his neck as Castiel’s teeth scraped against his collarbone.

 

“Pleasure. Vessel.” Castiel rolled, voice thick with what Dean assumed to be lust. The Angel was losing the momentarily polished edges to his voice to the pops and chirps that sparked in his throat before. 

 

Dean didn’t want to be pleasured by a goddamn deeps-space Xeno, but at the same time, he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. If given a choice between flinging his brother into the void of space to have Castiel keep touching him or stop, well Dean was ashamed of what he would choose. His body wasn’t his own at this point, and his mind was quickly following.

 

Castiel’s head tilted, alien tongue sliding down the curve of Dean’s throat. It left trails of inhuman heat down Dean’s skin, despite the ambient temperature of the Angel’s body being lower than a human’s. Something about Castiel’s saliva and tentacles had a warming effect on his body, honed to draw out reactions in him and cloud his mind.

 

Dean moaned, arching the best he could into the slide of a tentacle against his nipples. The buzzing pull of Castiel’s touch peaked the buds to aching, every pass sending hard shocks of pleasure from the nubs Dean usually ignored.

 

“Please, oh god please,” Dean begged, screwing his eyes shut at the horror of pleading for this creature to do the unthinkable. 

 

A low, pleased purr fluttered in Castiel’s chest, and his mouth raised to dust against Dean’s once more. “Breed.” The singular word coiled blazing lust and dread in Dean’s gut. An image of a clutch of shining black eggs flared in Dean’s mind shared through whatever Castiel had forced into his brain. 

 

The thickest tentacle on Castiel’s body started probing at his hole before he could tear his mind to the present. The creature’s touch took on new purpose, the tips of its tentacles teasing against his nipples, cock, and any erogenous zone they could find until Dean was a whimpering mass of need. 

 

The tip of the tentacle rolled against his hole, and in a sudden burst of warmth soaked him down with the same viscous secretion Castiel had forced down his throat. Dean’s lower body erupted into flames, a burning need sweeping through him from his ass that left him keening nonsense prayers to gods he didn’t believe it. 

 

Castiel breached, tip pushing in slowly at first to pump more dark ooze into Dean’s depths. When the tentacle pushed abruptly deep, Dean screamed, skewered through by an appendage impossibly long and thicker than anything he’d ever ridden before. It squirmed its way inside, bending with the turns of his body until it could coil and writhe, pressing at the walls of his abdomen.

 

“Yesss…” Castiel hissed, eyes glowing dimly in the dull lighting. Its hand crept up, clawed thumb hooking against the side of Dean’s lips and tugging until Dean relented and parted his lips in a choked gasp. 

 

The tentacle within Dean snaked deeper still, and Dean made to gasp once more. On the inhale, Castiel struck, another tentacle diving into the stretch of Dean’s parted lips.  Where Dean expected his gag reflex to rebel, there was only a soft stretch added by the slide of the viscous liquid Castiel pumped him full of. 

 

He was skewered from both sides, lost to the squirming masses in his stomach and gut. His eyelids fluttered, the threat of unconsciousness looming, but it never came. He hung between coherency and senselessness, stuck in the grasp of a creature that could kill him as effortlessly as he would kill an insect. 

 

The smallest tentacle coiled around the ever-weeping length of Dean’s cock pressed against their bodies. Every tug and pull of the appendage had his cock grinding against the strong center of Castiel’s spread lower half. He groaned around the flesh invading his mouth, shoving his hips futilely for  _ more more more _ . When he was to the point of sobbing with need, Castiel relented, slackening his grip on Dean’s middle just enough where the human could wiggle between the tentacles pleasuring him to sanity’s edge. 

 

The tentacle guided his cock forward, and his tip dragged against a slick slit in Castiel’s center. A rippled growl undulated through Castiel’s body, and it pressed close until the odd slit gave way and permitted the tip of Dean’s straining cock within.

 

Dean’s body spasmed, a bloom of pleasure so intense consuming him his breath stalled in his lungs. He came in the narrow passage of Castiel’s body, pumping harder than the last until his balls strained to keep up with his desire to spill the ecstasy of his body out until he could breathe again.

 

The lights dimmed, plunging them into darkness for a handful of seconds before the pure white lights of the primary system rebooted and illuminated the room in startling clarity. Dean blearily looked at the creature fucking every corner of his body, staring into the void of blue that burned fire trails against his skin. 

 

The intercom against the reader panel sparked, “Moose...are you...is the door?.... Copy?” Sam’s choppy message was distant noise to his ears, unimportant as he pressed his ass back against Castiel’s massive tentacle.

 

The small tentacle’s tip stroked against his urethra, flicking his slit in teasing strokes. A spurt of Castiel’s slime splashed against Dean’s cockhead, dribbling down his thickness and down his balls. The tip of the tentacle probed and began nudging inside, squirming until the first two inches crept within him, widening a channel Dean had never wanted to feel stretched in his life. 

 

Dean had no more voice to scream when his throat was locked around Castiel, and he was helpless to the creeping tentacle that slid down the length of his cock, wedging itself deep to squirm and continuously slick him up with ooze. 

 

A thump against the other side of the door tensed the tentacles lodge within him, and Dean moaned, longing for the fluid writhing once more.

 

“Dean! Why aren’t you answering the com? Are you okay? Dean!” Sam shouted, fists slamming against the door, pausing to press frantically against the Reader. 

 

The doors tried to open, but another flex of Castiel’s tentacles kept them rooted in place. Castiel’s lips peeled back from its teeth, hissing low and dangerous. “Mine.” It growled, pressing Dean’s body against the door hard enough to choke out what little breath Dean was managing to draw in around the invasion of Castiel’s tentacle in his mouth. 

 

“Dammit--” Sam couldn’t hear anything that was going on, and Dean couldn’t be more grateful.”Hold on! I’ll get the manual override!” No doubt Sam had dashed away again towards the cockpit, he prayed Sam didn’t find the goddamn power-assisted pry bar to wretch the doors open. 

 

Another tentacle began to probe at his already wide hole, and Dean whimpered, frankly trying to shake his head. There was no way anything else could fit in him! He’d die! But Castiel had no care for his protests. It nudged in right alongside the other, circling the mass of the first tentacle like a DNA strand, coiling deeper and deeper.  

 

His dick twitched, desperately trying to come once more, but unable to with the slender tentacle blocking his passage. He whimpered anew, writhing uselessly in a vain attempt to convey his need. 

 

Castiel’s body shuddered, and the Angel slumped his body forward, teeth dragging over Dean’s shoulder in chittering puffs of hot breath. 

 

Something bulged the most prominent tentacle within him, a solid oblong mass that hovered momentarily at his rim before traveling down the innards of Castiel’s limb. Dean could feel its decent, slowly at first, then others began to join it. Two, four, ten, an endless line of knots traveling down the taper, deeper, deeper. 

 

Castiel threw its head back and roared, hands planting against the doors so hard its nails bit into the hardened alloy and through to the other side. 

 

The first egg entered Dean, a malleable off-shaped sphere buried within his core. Dean squirmed, hands weakly grabbing at Castiel’s lower body to no avail. The Angel kept spilling in him, pumping egg after egg with no end in sight. The first eight felt like a basketball taking abrupt residence in his body, but more followed until his stomach bulged with their volume.  

 

When Dean was sure he would break and burst apart under the strain, the smallest tentacle tore free of his cock in a fluid side, and his umaking was completed. Dean’s body faded away in the rapture. Blue-white blood trickled down his chin from where he’d bitten Castiel in his exaltation, but the Angel just looked on with glee as Dean twitched and jerked. 

 

Castiel cooed gently against the side of Dean’s head as the tentacle plugging Dean’s mouth snaked from his lips. Castiel’s tongue slid out, tracing the shell of Dean’s ear with a quavering growl. “Brood.”

  
  
  


* * *

 

“Fuck!” Sam scrambled to lock the end of the flat bars in place. He reached for the intercom once more, “Dean if you can hear me answer me goddamnit!” Dull thumps sounded from the other side, and if he peered close, Sam swore he saw holes in the doors, barely there through the thick metal. 

 

As soon as the bars were in place, Sam slammed the button to whirr the clunky machine to life. It was a glorified jaws-of-life, but it worked when the newer technology failed. The doors started to give way, and Sam peered through the crack.

 

There was a flash of black and skin tones before a loud screech tore from the storage room and sent Sam backing up so fast he tripped and fell on his ass. He’d restored the artificial gravity for repair efforts minutes ago, and now he was regretting it.

 

“Dean!” He scrambled up as the doors groaned and finally torn wide. There was a flurry of movement from inside the cargo bay, and Sam took a cautious step forward.

 

Dark, opaque liquid soaked the floor immediately upon stepping inside, sticky under his boots. The faint sound of flesh sliding against flesh caught his ears the next moment, hidden by the guise of one of the intact stacks of boxes.

 

His heart hammered in his ears, and he turned to look at the box at the back of the bay. It was shattered. The Angel had escaped.

 

“D…dean?” He rasped, barely a whisper as he slid forward. Distantly, he knew he should turn and run and get a laser rifle, but fear for his elder brother drew him onward. He advanced towards the boxes, and the chitter-pops of the creature crooned in the air, bristling gooseflesh along his skin.

 

He rounded the corner, and nausea so visceral hit him he staggered.  Dean was in that thing’s clutches, naked and prone. His eyes had clouded over pitch, sightless. If it weren’t for the mewling breaths puffed from his throat, Sam would have been sure he was dead. His body was slicked in the same dark ooze as the doorway, and his stomach distended. And worse, Dean weakly clutched at the tentacles that roved his body, like he was begging for more.

 

The Angel’s eyes turned towards Sam, white-toothed smile dripping with aphrodisiac toxin, poised to harvest another. 

**Author's Note:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write


End file.
